


all nature seems to weary now

by wintercealde



Category: Robin Hood (TV), robin hood - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercealde/pseuds/wintercealde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little fill-in scene between 3x06 & 3x07 developing Robin and Isabella's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all nature seems to weary now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mala_ptica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mala_ptica/gifts).



> A/N: Written for the lovely and wonderful [](http://hulamoth.livejournal.com/profile)[**hulamoth**](http://hulamoth.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://robinxisabella.livejournal.com/profile)[**robinxisabella**](http://robinxisabella.livejournal.com/) Secret Santa. Title is from [this song](http://quinlanroad.com/explorethemusic/todrivecoldwinter.asp?id=61).

It is late summer. The earth is not so fertile this year, but it is not quite barren; it has been a hot, dry summer and so the grass is brown and brittle, yet the plants have somehow managed to survive. Though they are drooping and spindly, they are heavy with berries and crackling seedpods if only one knows where to look.

Isabella knows where to look. She needed to leave the house--she often needs to leave, even when Guy isn't there--and took a basket and shears and a handful of little linen bags she'd spent the past week making. The sun is hot, the light golden; her steps raise puffs of dust or crush dessicated grass with pops and crackles as she walks.

She heads for the meadow. To most people it would just be an empty space; its land not good enough to cultivate, just a waste where weeds and long grass run wild. For Isabella, though, whose mother took her by the hand as a child and taught her what plants were good to eat, which were good for healing, which plants you could use the leaves or berries or bark from, and which plants to avoid, it is a storehouse of opportunity, offering up hips of wild roses, fennel seeds, wild cherry bark and more.

It calms her, the thorough combing of the edges of the forest for plants that will offer themselves up to her; the careful snipping of branches and digging for roots. The things she gathers today will become poultices and potions and tisanes, stocking the medicine cabinet at Locksley for the coming year. It is steady, satisfying work and really the only thing she has.

"Isn't my lady going to get her dress dirty?" calls a voice from the shadows just inside the forest.

Isabella suppresses a smile. "Not all of us are afraid of a little honest work," she calls back. She stands, dusting off her hands and then her skirt, as Robin saunters out of the forest. He looks pleased with himself, as he usually does, but somehow his grin is infectious rather than infuriating.

He stops not far from her, his hands on his hips. She can't help glancing at the open collar of his shirt; she likes him like this--slightly askew, smudges of dirt on his trousers, vest undone. He notices her looking, and raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Isabella crosses her arms. "Did you come here just to interrupt me?"

Robin glances down at her basket. "You actually look like you know what you're doing." He pulls out a rosehip and tosses it in his mouth. A moment later his grin has twisted and he's spitting it out on the ground.

"I haven't gotten to the crabapple tree yet," Isabella says drily. She hands him her water skin.

"I noticed," Robin says, and swishes the taste from his mouth.

"Is something happening?" Isabella doesn't want to break the lighthearted mood, but Robin doesn't appear unless something's going on. It's a good policy, but it means she has mixed feelings about his visits.

Robin drops the skin by the basket, shrugs. "I was out for a walk." She has an idea of what lies behind his words but doesn't prod. The past is a dangerous place for them, the future uncertain--the present is what they have and Isabella tries to be content with it. Robin continues, his expression turning devious. "And I just happened to see a lovely lady, digging at plants like a regular Ceres." He saunters close to her, reaches up to brush a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

"Am I supposed to be flattered or offended that you're comparing me to a pagan?" This close, she can see the subtle creases appearing at the corners of his eyes, faded scars, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"Not just any pagan," he says, and his eyes grow more serious, "a goddess. Though maybe Venus would be more appropriate."

She doesn't laugh at his ridiculous compliment, because his fingers are trailing along her jawbone, over her ear, down her neck. Isabella catches herself, steadies her breathing. "So you think me pretty? That's good, I was beginning to think you only liked me for the information I could give you."

Robin smiles. It's not his cheeky grin, it's genuine, though his eyes are alight with amusement. "And I was afraid you only liked me for my good looks."

"Well, you've just proved you hardly have any brains." She looks pointedly at the small pile of rosehips in her basket that are definitely not crabapples. Isabella can't help smiling when she looks back at him; her hands make their way to his waist, slipping under his vest.

Robin narrows his eyes. "Did you just insult me? I think you just insulted me."

Isabella raises her eyebrows. "And what will you do if I have?"

"Well, if you don't want to me to be hurt you'll have to make me feel better."

"And how do I do that?" They're nose to nose now; Robin's next words are barely above a whisper.

"You could apologize."

"Never."

"Then I'll just have to settle for a kiss." His hand slips into her hair; she leans into him as he tilts his head down to hers.

These feelings are still new, both that of Robin's lips and the falling sensation in her stomach whenever he touches her. After a moment she makes herself pull away.

"Is your fragile ego feeling better?"

"Only marginally."

Isabella hooks a hand around his belt and pulls him back to her. "Well come here, then."

Robin's mock pout warms again into a smile, and soon all is forgotten but the moment.  



End file.
